02-15-2021, 12:38 AM
[align=center][div style="font-family: arial; font-size: 12px; width: 310px; text-align: justify; line-height:120%"]There is no end to grief. He knew such well, minor grown his want for a definite conclusion the stars may spin from fine silk, the cord to carve from him the agony that had long since sunk roots into his heart. To snuff it out, discard what had grown into integral fragment that fitted jagged edge against the space taken, unthinkable now. At times caught all the same, the well of his tears supposedly run dry found replenished, the creeping dread a smothering press, chest heaving against useless bid to remove it all.
Tightrope suspended against the belly of the sky, a performance. Expectation levelled, found wanting, never enough for any of it.
No purpose acted as guide, solemn the strange notion of peace left in wake. Remnants remained, a quiet reminder, no longer accessible, however. New his beginning, history, as cruel and hungry as those who bore the desire to write each blood soaked detail, and him the only ones left to remember. Sigh laced lips, his destination before, uninviting all the same though the promise of respite one tempting. Abandoned the notion, thunderous his passage, the eye of the storm condensed into a mortal skin. After watching, time passing in broken seconds. Not his place to question, to follow as though he were but a curious pup at the heel of his master, a stranger this man, an unknown his intention.
Progression slow, staggering as the voices rose, different each. None of it mattered, distance closing, to determine when pace shifted the errand of a fool, yet was he not such, to the whim of fault once thought buried falling. Breath caught, sharp the indraw. Too much, iron overwhelming salt, hushed grown the tide, broken those futile pleas. Over shoulder glancing, momentary thought, his place not here. Where else may it be, a stranger on these shores, a stranger in the tides of woe and grief, the unknown piece that might not slot easily into place.
Metal traded for sand, brief the diversion of attention, looked to the pools grown tacky, the upturned earth. Breath hitched as mouth opened, empty that which gathered atop tongue, a faux comfort he could not give. What had soothed his own fractured heart so long ago. Golden eyes, a touch that drew him forth, an embrace gentle, as though he were glass. Nothing he may offer, harsh his sudden swallow, lodged still the gathered weight, a lump his throat closed around. Known how it felt to be upon the inside, yet this, the helpless notion no assistance may be offered, his heart gently ached, his steps dragging as distance closed.
A request. Regarded the speaker for a moment, poor his match for her want for those named, but such to him, names on a list consisting of those largely crossed out. Away vision skirting, once more mouth opening, closure occurring soon after. Mind slow in being made up, closer moving, silent support for what little his presence may have been worth.
Tightrope suspended against the belly of the sky, a performance. Expectation levelled, found wanting, never enough for any of it.
No purpose acted as guide, solemn the strange notion of peace left in wake. Remnants remained, a quiet reminder, no longer accessible, however. New his beginning, history, as cruel and hungry as those who bore the desire to write each blood soaked detail, and him the only ones left to remember. Sigh laced lips, his destination before, uninviting all the same though the promise of respite one tempting. Abandoned the notion, thunderous his passage, the eye of the storm condensed into a mortal skin. After watching, time passing in broken seconds. Not his place to question, to follow as though he were but a curious pup at the heel of his master, a stranger this man, an unknown his intention.
Progression slow, staggering as the voices rose, different each. None of it mattered, distance closing, to determine when pace shifted the errand of a fool, yet was he not such, to the whim of fault once thought buried falling. Breath caught, sharp the indraw. Too much, iron overwhelming salt, hushed grown the tide, broken those futile pleas. Over shoulder glancing, momentary thought, his place not here. Where else may it be, a stranger on these shores, a stranger in the tides of woe and grief, the unknown piece that might not slot easily into place.
Metal traded for sand, brief the diversion of attention, looked to the pools grown tacky, the upturned earth. Breath hitched as mouth opened, empty that which gathered atop tongue, a faux comfort he could not give. What had soothed his own fractured heart so long ago. Golden eyes, a touch that drew him forth, an embrace gentle, as though he were glass. Nothing he may offer, harsh his sudden swallow, lodged still the gathered weight, a lump his throat closed around. Known how it felt to be upon the inside, yet this, the helpless notion no assistance may be offered, his heart gently ached, his steps dragging as distance closed.
A request. Regarded the speaker for a moment, poor his match for her want for those named, but such to him, names on a list consisting of those largely crossed out. Away vision skirting, once more mouth opening, closure occurring soon after. Mind slow in being made up, closer moving, silent support for what little his presence may have been worth.